


good in bed

by ootn



Series: could you love me? [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (with feelings), Choking, Confessions, Denial of Feelings, Hate Sex, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Smut, very very very brief mention of past relationships/possible trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ootn/pseuds/ootn
Summary: jaemin likes their arrangement. he hates jeno, but he likes the sex. so far, it's working out for them. if only jeno would stop looking at him like that— like he cares. it's just sex, after all. they despise each other, remember?
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Na Jaemin
Series: could you love me? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724893
Comments: 15
Kudos: 334





	good in bed

“I hate you,” Jaemin moans as Jeno slams him up against a wall, mouthing at his neck and jaw, “I really fucking hate you.” His hands are everywhere, up Jeno’s shirt, all over his abdomen and his back and his chest, touching him everywhere. When Jeno sucks hard on the junction between his neck and his shoulder, he drags his nails down Jeno’s back. He knows it will leave a mark.

“I hate you too,” Jeno pauses to say eventually, rolling his eyes, and Jaemin glowers at the ceiling. But then Jeno pulls the collar of his shirt down, dragging his teeth along his collarbone and Jaemin gasps, unable to stop his hips from jerking up against Jeno’s. 

“Need this off,” Jeno mumbles into Jaemin’s shoulder, tugging impatiently at Jaemin’s t-shirt. Jaemin doesn’t know how Jeno manages to beg and still retain the upperhand. Not that he’d ever admit it, because in his mind, he always has the upperhand. Every time. In reality, he never does. 

“You don’t get to decide that,” Jaemin growls, but he pulls away from Jeno anyway, taking his shirt off and discarding it somewhere in the room. Jeno attaches his mouth to Jaemin’s chest the second that he can, littering tiny bites all over. “Bed,” Jaemin rasps, pushing on Jeno’s chest, and Jeno permits him to duck out from under his arms, beelining for the bed and kicking his shoes off on the way. 

“I don’t remember you being this desperate,” Jeno says scathingly, and when he reaches the bed he covers Jaemin’s body with his own. Jaemin doesn’t dignify that comment with a response, mainly because he doesn’t think he’d be able to come up with one if he tried. 

Jaemin reaches between them, grabbing at Jeno’s bulge and making Jeno’s breath catch in his throat. “That’s what I thought,” Jaemin whispers, and then he slips his hand inside Jeno’s pants. He doesn’t do much, just strokes him a few times, but it has the intended effect on Jeno. He moans, low and throaty, and Jaemin relishes in it because it’s not often he can make Jeno moan. Unfortunately, making Jaemin moan is practically Jeno’s specialty. Unfair.

“Why are you still dressed?” Jaemin asks, and it doesn’t come out as harsh as he wants it to. He removes his hand from Jeno’s pants, not missing the way Jeno’s hips jerk after him as if he’s chasing it. “Take your fucking clothes off. Now.”

Jeno doesn’t argue, because unlike Jaemin, he’s confident in the role he plays in their little scenario. So Jeno does as he’s told, getting off of Jaemin and off of the bed altogether, kicking off his shoes. He takes his shirt off agonizingly slow, unbuttoning one button at a time, making sure to provide Jaemin with a more than adequate look at his body, his strong chest and his defined abs. The very abs that Jaemin absolutely despises, swears every time that they do nothing for him, and yet every time he can’t keep his hands off of them.

“When are you going to stop pretending that I enjoy watching you get undressed?” Jaemin asks, sounding both bored and aggravated, and Jeno raises an eyebrow. 

“When are you going to start acting like you don’t?” 

Jaemin scoffs, crossing his arms and turning away from Jeno, who just chuckles as he pulls his jeans off, leaving his boxers on. He climbs back into bed with Jaemin, kneeling over him, and he says “Your turn.” 

“That’s not _your decision,_ ” Jaemin hisses, but when Jeno unzips his jeans and tugs them down he does absolutely nothing to stop him. Jeno hesitates, looking Jaemin in the eye as his fingers linger over the waistband of Jaemin’s boxers. 

“Do. Not.” Jaemin orders, but then he pulls his boxers off himself, and now he’s naked below Jeno, completely at his mercy. He tries not to think about it too much.

Jeno opens his mouth to say something, something mocking or petty, surely, but he doesn’t get to because Jaemin grabs him by the neck, and now it’s his turn to worship Jeno’s skin. He plants sloppy, open mouthed kisses up and down the column of Jeno’s neck, and he can tell that Jeno likes it by the way he’s pliant and patient, by the way he lets Jaemin pull him close and stays there. Jaemin wishes that he was pushing him off, instead.

But he’s not, he’s reaching between them, grabbing Jaemin’s dick and stroking him slowly. Jaemin lets his lips on Jeno’s neck turn into teeth, biting down on Jeno’s skin. 

“Lube,” Jeno reminds Jaemin, who pulls away from Jeno long enough to rummage blindly in his nightstand before he finds it. 

“Here, asshole,” Jaemin says, pressing it into Jeno’s hand and refusing to look at him. Jeno smirks, and he moves, letting Jaemin spread his legs before settling between them.

“Always so eager to spread your legs for me, no matter how much you despise me,” Jeno taunts, and Jaemin moves his leg again, pressing a foot against Jeno’s chest and holding it there. 

“Always so eager to make yourself useful for me,” he shoots back, and they glare at each other until Jaemin lets his leg fall back onto the mattress, and Jeno opens the lube. 

Jeno shoves two fingers inside of Jaemin at once, because he knows Jaemin can take it. He knows Jaemin’s body better than he knows his own. He also knows Jaemin could take two more at once, if he really wanted, but Jeno isn’t that cruel. 

Jaemin arches his back, letting out a breathy moan and pushing his hips down on Jeno’s fingers. Jeno doesn’t say anything, thankfully, just fingers Jaemin in a way that takes his breath away. He adds another finger eventually, and that’s probably plenty, but he adds a fourth for good measure. He adds a fourth just to antagonize Jaemin, just to piss him off, and it works. Jaemin raises onto his elbows immediately, glaring at Jeno. 

“You want me to stop?” Jeno asks mockingly, knowing that that’s exactly the opposite of what Jaemin wants, and Jaemin just shoots him a nasty look before falling back onto the bed. 

Jeno removes his fingers eventually, finally taking his own boxers off. It makes Jaemin feel a tiny bit better, because he _hates_ being less-dressed than Jeno, but somehow it always happens. Jeno positions himself over Jaemin, slicking his cock up and catching Jaemin’s eye.

“Are you sure?” Jeno asks, lining himself up to Jaemin’s entrance, and this is Jaemin’s _least_ favorite part, because this is where he has to admit that he wants it. Jeno doesn’t ask to be cruel, or to rub it in, which he certainly could, because Jaemin would answer the same either way. He asks because Jaemin knows Jeno would never lay a finger on him if Jaemin told him not to.

“I’m sure, Jeno,” Jaemin whispers, trying and failing to meet Jeno’s eyes. He turns his head away, instead staring at the wall. He hears Jeno sigh, and he tries to ignore the way his heart twists. 

“Okay,” Jeno says quietly, and then he pushes into Jaemin, slow and gentle as he always is, at first. Jaemin despises it. He needs Jeno to be rough, he needs Jeno to be aggressive, he needs Jeno to fuck the anger out of him and make him scream.

Jaemin hasn’t been paying attention, and now Jeno is hovering above him, face just inches from Jaemin’s, holding himself up with a hand on either side of Jaemin’s head. There’s something _there,_ in his eyes, something that’s not hate or anger or animosity. Jaemin can’t deal with it. 

“Fuck you,” he spits at Jeno, and he can see the way whatever is in Jeno’s eyes fades away and is replaced with resentment. Good. 

“I think _I’m_ doing the fucking here, Jaemin,” Jeno says, radiating annoyance and displeasure all at once. This, Jaemin can handle. This, Jaemin knows what to do with. 

“Because you need it,” Jaemin hisses, “Because you’re too weak to live without it.” Jeno’s eyes darken, and he thrusts into Jaemin hard enough that the entire bed rocks. 

“And you?” Jeno asks, burying his face into Jaemin’s shoulder and biting down hard. Jaemin writhes under him. “You’re still here, every time, begging me to fuck you. I can get off without you, but you can’t get off without me.” For some reason, that last sentence cuts deep. 

“I would never _beg_ ,” Jaemin fires back, moaning when Jeno hits his prostate straight on, distracting him so much that he almost forgets where he was going with that statement. “I’d never so much as ask you for _anything_. Get out of your fucking head, Jeno. Or don’t, and keep dreaming, because that is _never_ happening.” 

Jeno grunts, and then he’s flipping them over, forcing Jaemin to fuck himself on his cock, which he does willingly. Forcing Jaemin to _look at him_ , because Jaemin can’t avoid Jeno’s face when he’s right there, underneath him. 

“One day,” is all Jeno says, and then he grabs Jaemin’s waist, pulling him down while simultaneously thrusting up into him hard. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jaemin spits, “Get your hands off of me.”

“My pleasure,” Jeno says back, seething, but he doesn’t, and Jaemin doesn’t try to make him. He moves his hands higher, tracing up Jaemin’s sides and grazing over his chest. Jaemin doesn’t stop him, just bounces faster on Jeno’s cock, throwing his head back when he gets the angle just right. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” Jaemin asks, and Jeno rolls his eyes, grabbing Jaemin by the hips again and holding him still as he slams up into him. It’s enough to make Jaemin start to fall over, lurching forward and placing his palms flat on Jeno’s chest to prevent himself from collapsing on top of him. He needs as much distance between his and Jeno’s faces as possible. 

“I could get so much better than _you_ ,” Jaemin moans, and he’s trying to make it sound more aggressive but he can’t, not with Jeno fucking him the way he is. “I can do so much better. I don’t know why the fuck I waste my time on you.” This time, he does sound like he means it, but then Jeno delivers another perfectly aimed thrust and he gasps. 

“I told you,” Jeno says, “You need me.” 

“I do _not_ ,” Jaemin half-says half-whines, and he’s fed up with Jeno doing this to him so he climbs off of him, rolling onto his back. Jeno is on top of him in seconds. “I don’t need you,” Jaemin whispers as Jeno pushes right back into him, but Jeno doesn’t hear him, too distracted by the sound of his hips slapping against Jaemin’s ass. 

“I don’t need you,” Jaemin says again, louder, and Jeno definitely hears him this time.

“I don’t need you either. Don’t get it twisted,” Jeno cautions. “But one of us needs _something_ , otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now, and it’s not me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jaemin snaps back, and then he gives up on talking to Jeno, just letting the elder fuck him senseless. His head is hazy with pleasure and he moans with every thrust in, gasps with every pull out. 

Jeno places a hand around Jaemin’s neck, pressing down, and Jaemin’s eyes roll back. He continues to apply pressure as much as he can, not enough that Jaemin passes out but enough that it restricts his breathing and makes him turn pale.

“If you didn’t need me, would you let me do _this?_ ” Jeno taunts, and Jaemin can’t find it in him to try to argue, to try to get Jeno off of him. It just feels too _good_ , Jeno fucking him open and choking him all at once, and he feels himself slipping closer to the edge.

Jeno releases Jaemin when his eyes flutter closed and his breathing turns too shallow, too desperate. Jaemin’s eyes fly open when he realizes that he can actually breathe again, and he immediately wishes they didn’t, because the look on Jeno’s face is too cocky for him to handle. There’s a red halo around his neck, and he can’t see it but Jeno can, and it turns him on more than it should. 

“Jaemin, I’m close,” Jeno warns, and Jaemin curses. 

“Fucking make yourself useful then, fuck me _hard,_ I know you want to,” Jaemin moans, and Jeno does, slamming into Jaemin hard enough that his body is pushed up the mattress with every thrust.

“I’m gonna cum,” Jeno rasps, because Jaemin is so so so tight around him, hot and delicious and he’s overwhelmed, now. Jeno moves to pull out of him, because that’s the _rule_ , he’s not _allowed_ to cum inside Jaemin. But for some reason, Jaemin grabs him, wraps his arms around his neck and clenches around him, hard, looking him in the eye as he does so.

Jeno is too shocked to react, too surprised, and then he’s cumming, spilling inside Jaemin and looking at him with so many questions in his eyes. Jaemin looks unsure, too, even though he’s the one holding Jeno there, and then he says quietly, “Please, Jeno.”

Jeno’s _never_ heard him beg, never heard him ask for anything, Jaemin was right about that. So he wraps his hand around Jaemin’s cock immediately, and it’s just a few strokes before Jaemin is cumming, too, falling apart in Jeno’s hands. “Jeno,” Jaemin whispers as he cums, startling both of them, and Jaemin’s eyes widen as he realizes what he’s just done. 

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and the silence is absolutely deafening. Neither of them moves, and they’re frozen like this, Jeno still buried deep inside Jaemin, Jaemin’s arms still around Jeno’s neck, pulling him closer. Slowly, Jeno moves his hand from Jaemin’s dick, and that seems to snap Jaemin out of it. He releases Jeno immediately, and he snaps “Get out of me,” and Jeno does, falling onto his back next to Jaemin. 

They stare at the ceiling for a long time, neither of them moving, neither of them looking at each other. Jeno waits patiently for Jaemin to say something because he knows, they both know, that it’s Jaemin’s move. It’s up to him what happens next, and Jeno doesn’t dare to hope for anything.

“I don’t hate you,” Jaemin says, finally, in a whisper. He still doesn’t turn to look at Jeno.

“I know,” Jeno says quietly. 

“And I— I know you don’t hate me, either.”

“Jaemin, I’ve never hated you. I couldn’t. I tried, but I just couldn’t.” 

Jaemin turns to look at him, and Jeno notices immediately that his eyes are glittering with tears.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly, reaching to brush away one that slides down his cheek.

“I’m not,” Jaemin says fiercely, “And don’t touch me. Please.” He wipes his eyes, and he tries to turn away again, but Jeno stops him.

“Jaemin,” Jeno says gently, “You don’t have to pretend anymore. You don’t have to pretend. Not with me.” 

“I’m _not_ ,” Jaemin says adamantly, but he’s crying for real now, and he turns away again, hiding his face from Jeno.

“Jaemin.” He doesn’t get a response, just a sniffle. “Jaemin, look at me.”

Finally, Jaemin does. 

“Jaemin. Can I do something?” 

Jaemin regards him carefully through his tears. “Do what?”

Jeno moves closer to him, laying next to him and pressing their naked bodies together. He sits up a little, and he places a finger under Jaemin’s chin, tilting it toward him. Jaemin just looks at him, blinking away tears and holding his breath. 

And then Jeno leans in. 

And then Jeno is kissing him, soft and so so gently, and he pulls away much sooner than Jaemin wants him to.

“Do it again,” Jaemin whispers, and Jeno does. Jaemin is hesitant at first, for a zillion reasons. He and Jeno have _never_ kissed, ever, that was one of their rules. No kissing, no cumming inside, no feelings. It felt a lot simpler back then. 

Jaemin tries to remember why this engagement even started. It was his idea, of course it was. He hardly knew Jeno at all. All he knew was that Jeno was a cocky little bastard, a cocky little bastard who was in half of Jaemin’s classes and _always_ did better than he did. Always. 

It made Jaemin _mad,_ it made Jaemin’s life living hell because he didn’t understand how Jeno could be so handsome and clever and popular and _smart_. Jaemin swore to himself that somehow, some way, he’d best Jeno at something. One day. And then they got put together to work on a project for one of those classes, and everything fell apart.

“I fucking despise you,” Jaemin had said the second Jeno stepped into his apartment to work on the stupid project. “I hate you too,” Jeno had said, and then five seconds later they were in Jaemin’s bed. They didn’t get much work done that day. 

They made the rules after that day, because it was _so good_ that neither of them knew how to stay away. It was supposed to be meaningless fucking. It was supposed to be absent of feelings. 

The feelings were there from the first day.

Jaemin deepens the kiss when Jeno lets him, slipping his tongue into Jeno’s mouth and tangling a hand in his hair. Jeno holds onto Jaemin’s waist tight, and Jaemin wraps a leg around Jeno’s hips. He needs him closer. He needs everything. 

They break apart a while later, and Jaemin knows that he looks wrecked. It’s okay, because Jeno kind of does, too. 

“We said no feelings,” Jaemin whispers, running a finger along Jeno’s jaw. “It was supposed to be just sex.” Jeno grabs his hand, pulling it toward his mouth and kissing the back of it.

“The feelings were already there,” Jeno says, and Jaemin knows he’s right. “It was never just sex, not for me. I know it wasn't for you, either.” Jaemin bites his lip and looks away, because he doesn't know what to say. It was never just sex for him. It was never just sex, period.

Jeno cups Jaemin's face in his hands, meeting his eye again. “Why did you have to hide, Jaemin? You always knew I cared about you. You always knew I wanted you.” It doesn’t come out accusatory, because it’s not. It’s gentle questioning, laced with concern. Jeno has never been anything but patient with him.

And it’s true, too. Jaemin always did know that Jeno cared about him, for real, not just in the way that you pretend to care for someone when you’re having no-strings-attached sex. 

Jeno has always been gentle, always been kind. He’s always wanted to take care of Jaemin, and Jaemin knew it. He knew Jeno hated leaving him there. He knew Jeno hated walking away, he knew Jeno hated leaving Jaemin an exhausted mess on the bed. They never explicitly said ‘no aftercare,’ but it was implied. You don’t give aftercare to someone you hate. 

Jaemin hated it too, but he’d never admit it. 

Through it all, through all the aggression and the taunting and the fighting, through all the touching and the lusting and the fucking, ever since day one, Jaemin could always tell by the way Jeno _looked_ at him that there was something there. Something he wouldn’t let himself feel.

Jaemin places a hand on Jeno’s chest before he answers him.

“I was scared,” he admits, and for once he’s able to look Jeno in the eye. “My last relationship…” He trails off, because that’s not something he wants to think about right now. Or ever, to be honest.

“It’s okay,” Jeno says softly, and he brushes a piece of Jaemin’s hair out of his face before cupping Jaemin’s face in one hand. “I’m here now.” Jaemin smiles at him.

“I don’t know what came over me,” Jaemin says quietly. “I just— I couldn’t let you… I needed…” Jaemin thinks hard, trying to figure out what he wants to say. He already knows, though, he’s known for a while now what he wants to say, what he _needs_ to say. “I needed you,” Jaemin whispers, “I need you.”

Jeno kisses him again. 

“You have me,” he says gently, and Jaemin flushes.

“Just… be patient with me. Please. This is all… _new_ to me.” 

Jaemin doesn’t specify what he’s talking about, but Jeno knows already. He knows Jaemin means _feelings_ , the feelings they have for one another that are so new and raw and desperate. He doesn’t know what happened to Jaemin in the past, who hurt him so badly that he’s so scared to love again, but he doesn’t push. He trusts Jaemin will tell him in time. For now, Jeno is content just to hold him.

Jaemin turns onto his side, an unspoken invitation for Jeno to pull him to his stomach. There’s so much _contact_ that Jaemin almost feels dizzy. He can feel every inch of Jeno’s skin against him, warm and soft, and he shudders. Jeno buries his face in Jaemin’s neck, kissing gently across his shoulder and up his neck. It’s so delicate, so tender, so contrary to the purple marks and bite prints that are already littered there. Jaemin didn’t know how bad he needed this until now.

Jeno’s soft cock is between them, pressing against the backs of Jaemin’s thighs, and he remembers how it felt to let Jeno cum inside of him. How it felt to let Jeno fill him up with his everything, how it felt to be _together_ like that. Synchronous. He thinks that he wouldn’t mind doing that again. Doing that _every_ time.

Jaemin turns around in Jeno’s arms, pressing their foreheads together and smiling at him softly. “I’m sorry I pushed you away for so long.”

“It’s okay,” Jeno says. “I waited, because I knew.”

“You _are_ a cocky little bastard,” Jaemin teases.

“No,” Jeno replies, smiling, “I just knew what I wanted.”

Jaemin just kisses him again.

**Author's Note:**

> apparently i'm incapable of writing anything without feelings... i tried so hard to make this just hate sex but i'm a sucker for feelings confessions. hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
